


melt me like ice in whiskey

by inlovewithnight



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Fuckbuddies, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:51:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6249637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Val and Jamie have done this before. Occasionally. Not that much. Two or three times. Maybe five.</p>
            </blockquote>





	melt me like ice in whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> Set around mid-season, when the Stars were skidding.

Val says all the right things when Jamie asks her if she’s okay. “I play where Coach wants me,” she says, focusing on her skates. “First line, third line, doesn’t matter, I’m play my best.”

“He’s trying out all kinds of combinations,” he tells her, bumping her shoulder with his to try to get her to look up at him. “It’s nothing you did. He’s bounced Sharpy around, too.”

She doesn’t look up, but her mouth twists in a half-smile. “Compare me to Sharpy.”

“You’re as good as he is. Gonna be better.” 

“I tell him you said that.” She finishes lacing her skates and stands up. “Then he kicks your ass.”

“I’m the captain.”

“He has rings.” She wiggles her fingers at him and turns away, heading for the ice. He watches her go and mentally lists off all the ways he could’ve done that better.

**

After the game they all go out and get a little fucked up. Just a little. They’re on thin enough ice with Coach that getting super fucked up would get them in trouble, and nobody wants that. They’re all miserable enough about the season’s nosedive without adding bag skates.

Jamie’s at a table with Tyler, Jordie, and Daddy. They started out with a round of shots and now they’re all nursing beers at a steady rate to keep a comfortable buzz without tipping over into anything more. It’s nice. Jamie’s got a warm glow of contentment in his gut and his head. He can see most of the bar from their table, can keep an eye on his teammates. Big Rig left with a girl about half his height; Jamie wishes them sincere luck in figuring out workable sex positions. Eaves is on his phone and steadily ignoring two girls who have been making eyes at him for half an hour. Val and Antoine are at the bar, matching shots and laughing about something.

Jamie watches them a little longer than anyone else. Long enough for Tyler to notice, apparently.

“Jamie, what are you thinking about, dude? You’ve got your serious face on.”

“Nothing.” Jamie turns his attention back to his beer, feeling a hot flush rise up in his cheeks. “Just counting heads.”

“You’re our captain, not our mom. Relax.”

“He’s keeping an eye on Val,” Jordie chimes in. “A very watchful eye.”

“I am not.” Jamie shakes his head and drinks. “Val’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

“You don’t want her to, though.” Of course Daddy has to join in, too. Jamie fucking hates his team sometimes. “You want to take care of her.”

“Take care of her pussy,” Jordie adds, because he’s awful and also because Tyler needs things spelled out sometimes. Jamie hates both of them.

“You and Val?” Tyler’s eyebrows fly up toward his hair. “Whoa! Yes! I am into it.”

“There’s nothing to be into,” Jamie says firmly. He can make this stop if he tries hard enough. Please God let him be able to make this stop if he tries hard enough. “We’re teammates, we’re lineys.”

“You’re not lineys right now,” Daddy says. “Is that what’s bumming you out? You should take her home and fuck her. Renew that special connection.”

“What the fuck did they do in San Jose that you think that’s how lineys make a connection, Daddy?”

Jason sighs and raises his beer in a toast. “Beautiful things, my friend.”

Jamie shakes his head. “If I have to fuck Val to make a connection, then I have to fuck Tyler, too, and I am not into it.”

Tyler frowns at him. “Hey, I’m sitting right here.”

“Shut up.” Jamie points at him, then at Jason. “And I would have to fuck Sharpy, too, and no. Just no. Forget it.”

“Sharpy is probably a very generous lover.”

“I wouldn’t know. Ask Abby.”

“Or Duncan Keith’s wife,” Tyler adds, and then it’s all off to the races of arguing about if _that_ ever actually went down, and Jamie can have a few minutes of peace with his beer.

He looks over at the bar again and sees that Antoine is on his phone and Val is wiping stripes in the condensation on her glass. 

She looks sad, and Jamie kind of can’t stand it.

“What if it’s not a liney thing,” he says, low enough that just Jordie can hear him. “What if it’s just, like, a being a good captain thing?”

Jordie shrugs and smacks him on the arm. “Wrap up good, Arty. That would be one huge baby.”

“I hate you most of all,” Jamie tells him, and gets up to walk back to the bathrooms. He’s got at least another hour to kill before those two get bored and go home.

**

Jordie and Tyler are not aware that Val and Jamie have done this before. Occasionally. Not that much. Two or three times. Maybe five.

It’s important to Val to keep things quiet, and Jamie is better at doing that than even his brother and his best friend give him credit for. They know he doesn’t like to spill things to the media, but if they ever find out that there are things he doesn’t tell _them…_

Well, they’ll probably drag him to the rink and give him a good facewash, so he’s going to do his best to make sure they don’t find out ever.

It’s kind of fun having a secret, anyway.

**

Val says yes before he even gets the whole question out.

“Thought I’d take Antoine home, but he is dating.” She’s visibly disgusted by the very idea. “Did you know this? Dating a girl from the frozen yogurt shop.”

“The one with the purple hair and the piercings?” Jamie gestures at his whole face, because that’s what’s pierced, the girl’s whole face. It’s kind of mesmerizing. He gets so distracted by it he usually ends up ordering something he never meant to order at all.

“Yes! Can you believe it? Not what I expected from him at all.”

“Everybody’s full of surprises,” Jamie agrees. “So, uh, your place or mine?”

“Mine,” she says firmly, signing her credit card slip and closing the folder with a pop. “You give keys to Segs. Jordie lives there. I don’t want them coming in while I’m naked.”

“They’ve seen you naked lots of times.”

“It’s different for fucking.” She tosses her hair back over her shoulder and levels him with a look. He doesn’t know how she does that. It must be a European thing; Johnny O can kind of do it, too, and Kevin could, only their versions don’t make Jamie feel turned on and a little confused, and Val’s _always_ do. “Are we going now?”

“Yeah. Yes. I’ll…” He waves his phone at her. “I’ll get an Uber.”

“Good.” She smiles at him, somehow bright and shy at once. “We’ll have fun.”

“I hope so.” He taps at the screen and tells himself to stop blushing. It doesn’t work. “I’d hate to disappoint.”

“You can’t possibly be as disappointing as Tyler,” she says, and before he can follow up and get the story behind _that_ remark, she heads off toward the bathrooms, already going through her purse for whatever mysterious girl thing she’s going to do when she gets there.

Jamie honestly isn’t sure if the level at which Val confuses him is a pro or a con of this thing they keep doing.

Probably both. That would be typical.

**

Val's apartment is painfully tidy and smells like flowers. It surprises him all over again every time. She has books and stuff. It’s weird. 

She smiles faintly, watching him. "You always make so many faces when you come here.”

"I'm fine." He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs at her, putting on his best photoshoot smile. His lips stick to his teeth and she looks at him like he’s an idiot, so he stops.

She nods and gestures to the kitchen. "Drinks first?"

"Yes," he says with relief. "Please."

Val doesn't fall into stereotypes about vodka; she mixes them each a concoction of rum and juice and hands over Jamie's with a serious look. "Strong enough?"

It threatens to burn the top layer off his tongue. "This is good. Uh. Very good."

She downs hers in a few long swallows, and he gets distracted, watching--her throat is so pale and smooth, her hair is falling down over her forehead, and she's just... 

She's Val, she's his teammate, but she's also really hot. Strong and tall and talented as hell, Slavic cheekbones and cold eyes. She's out of his league, really. Probably.

She's waiting for him to finish his drink and take her to bed. They’re doing this, again, and it’s probably going to be awesome, again, and he in no way deserves the good luck he’s had in his life.

She sets her glass down on the counter with a click. “I’m going to the bedroom,” she says. “Come find me when you’re done thinking.”

“I’m not thinking,” he says immediately.

It earns him a raised eyebrow. “No?”

“I almost never am,” he answers honestly, and she laughs all the way down the hall.

**

Val stretches out on the bed, curling her toes and then flexing the arches of her feet. “Come on, captain.”

Jamie laughs a little and climbs onto the bed, looking up the length of her body. “You're all ready, huh?”

“I'm know what I want.” She slips her hand under the waistband of her underwear and runs it back and forth over her stomach. “Let's not waste time.”

Jamie isn't a big fan of teasing anyway. It’s awesome how well his preferences tend to line up with Val’s.

He crawls up the bed and braces himself over her on one hand, reaching between her legs with the other and rubbing her through the thin fabric of her underwear. Val never gets wet fast, it always takes a little work. Touching, coaxing, getting her worked up and flushed hot, and then he would pull her panties down and eat her out until she was slick and relaxed and ready.

She squirms under him, arching up to press her breasts against him. “Down,” she mutters, and he obediently moves his mouth away from hers and down to the pale curves of her tits. She likes being kissed there, sucking, tongue moving over skin, no teeth. He knows the Val playbook.

He keeps working his hand between her legs, rubbing with his fingertips or the backs of his knuckles, feeling her get hotter and the fabric start to get damp as she opened up. He kisses between her breasts, inhaling deeply, then licks a line down her belly to the waistband of her panties.

“Yes,” Val says, sitting up a little to watch him. “Don't tease, Jamie.”

He loves how she says his name--one of the guys had explained once that Russian didn't have a J sound, they put it together from two other letters, and he can always hear that in Val's voice, the D to shape it and then the soft buzz of a letter English doesn’t have. D’zhaymie. It sounds good.

He definitely isn't going to tease her. He hooks his thumbs in the elastic, pulls her panties down her thighs with a quick tug, and buries his face between her legs.

Val tends to be quiet, on the ice and in the room and here, too, her thighs tightening under his hands and her breath getting faster and louder, but no more. She never _says_ anything when he’s going down on her. She might gasp when he’s doing really well, but otherwise, quiet.

He kind of likes it. It makes him work harder for the shivers and little hitches of breath and finally, finally, the chest-deep gasps when she comes. She reaches down and pushes at his forehead, moving him back away from her. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and waits, watching her face. She doesn’t like to rush, either. She’ll tell him what she wants next when she’s good and ready.

“Fuck,” she says finally, squirming on the bed and reaching down to press her fingers against herself. “I’m still… it’s not enough.”

“Okay,” he says, watching her middle finger slip up inside herself, rubbing restless circles against wet skin. “Hand me a condom, we can--”

“No.” She sighs and pulls her hand away, wiping her fingers on the sheet and then looking at him. “I want the other. Your… with your hand.”

He blushes, all the way to the roots of his hair, because oh _god_. “You remember that?”

She gives him that look that means she thinks he’s an idiot. He knows that one well. “Of course.”

“We were, you know. We were really drunk.” Drunk and celebrating being first in the league and one of the guys--Tyler or Spezza, he can’t remember, one of them--had made some joke earlier in the evening that lingered in their heads and one thing led to another.

She shakes her head. “Not so very drunk… oh. You were?” She blinks at him, then laughs, sitting up and reaching for her underwear. “Oh.”

“Hey. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it again!”

“Is fine, is fine.”

“No, now I’ve got something to prove!”

“Jamie.” She shakes her head. “Forget it.”

“No. Hey. Lie back down.” He reaches out to catch her shoulder, push her back to the bed, but she knocks his hand away, raising her eyebrows at him with cool meaning. He sits back on his heels, putting his hands up. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“I won’t.” He looks at her, keeping his eyes on her face instead of letting them wander. “I just. If you want it. I want to try again.”

She watches him for a moment, her face perfectly blank, her eyes distant. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

She nods and lays back again, swinging one leg up to point at the ceiling and catching her hands behind the knee in an easy stretch. “Get the lube, okay? And a towel.”

“Right.” He slips out of bed and goes to her linen closet, grabbing two bath towels and a few washcloths. He doesn’t remember much of the actual night they did this before, but he does remember the mess when they woke up. Val thought it was funny, but he was kind of… overwhelmed. It was overwhelming. _Val_ is overwhelming.

The lube is sitting on her bathroom counter, which is confusing, but he isn’t going to ask. He never asks. He climbs back on the bed, holding his supplies out to her for approval, and she smiles at him around the stretch she’s holding on her other leg. “Very good, Captain.”

“Thanks.” He lays both of the bath towels out, half-overlapped to cover more of the sheets, and then moves up the length of her body to kiss her. She laughs against his mouth, a warm little giggle that makes his dick twitch eagerly against his thigh.

“Don’t be nervous,” she says. “I’m the one taking your giant hand. You’re fine.”

“I’m not nervous.” He rolls his hips, rubbing against her a little. “I just, you know. I like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“All… opened up for me.” He feels his face reddening, and hides it against her shoulder for a moment. “Are you ready?”

“ _Yes_ , Jamie, I said it already.”

“Okay, okay.” He slides his hand down between their bodies, pressing two fingers against her pussy and rubbing in a slow, teasing pattern. She’s still soaked and open and ready, and he pushes them inside, keeping the rhythm going and biting back a moan at the feeling of her hot, slick muscles against his skin.

“More,” she says, twisting under him. “I’m ready, I said, give me more.”

“All right, all right.” He pushes a third finger in, keeping them together at first and then opening them up, feeling her thighs shake under him. One of her legs comes up, her foot rubbing against the back of his calf.

“Yes,” she says, “yes, Jamie, more.”

“Not ready quite yet.” He can tell, can feel the stretch of her body and that it has further to go before he can press his last finger inside her. He knows how she feels when she’s ready for more, even though he was drunk the last time they did this specifically. He knows her body, better than he thought he did. The sounds she makes, the way she writhes on the bed, the little jerks and spasms in her muscles--he knows them, knows what to look for and feel for and wait for. He grabs for the lube and dribbles it over his hand and her open pink pussy.

“Fuck you,” she says, her voice rough and low. “Fuck you, I want it, give it to me.”

He huffs a sharp breath against her neck and gives in, pushing his last finger into her and rolling his wrist a bit, spreading the lube and opening her up more. Val cries out, arching off the bed, and he waits, dragging hot breaths in through his teeth until she settles again.

“I told you,” he says, licking at her collarbone. “Be patient.”

“Fuck you, it’s good.” She arches up again, sweat running down from her throat, and he gives in to impulse and licks it up, his mouth moving hot and restless over her skin.

“The rest,” she says, bringing her leg higher and pressing her heel against his ass. “I want the rest of it, come on, more. Jamie. Captain.”

“Fuck.” He breathes out sharply, explosively, his teeth sliding over her throat. “D-don’t call me that in bed, oh my god, Val.”

“Gets you going. I like it. Captain.”

He swears again, and barely stops himself from biting down. She doesn’t like marks on her neck, doesn’t like anything visible outside the locker room. She likes this to stay just between them, not the business of anyone else.

Jamie is good at doing what he’s told and what people want from him. He can do what she wants.

He fumbles for more lube, thanking god for the towels because he is making a fucking _mess_ , then turns his thumb against the palm of his hand, drawing his fingers tighter together, and pushes inside her as slowly as he can. Val moans, high and rough, her thighs shaking as her body takes him in.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.” She bites her lip and tilts her head back, sweat running down her skin everywhere. Her fingers are twitching against the towels, cut-off fingernails trying to dig in and hold on, and her feet are spasming similarly, toes curling, just visible from the corner of Jamie’s eye.

“Good?” he asks, brushing his mouth against her thigh. The skin is hot and salty on his lips, the tip of his tongue; he wants to kiss and bite, but instead he just licks a slow line, making her gasp and kick.

“Move,” she says, her voice breaking into a moan. “God, fuck, Jamie, move.”

He does as he’s told, slow and careful, motions that feel microscopic to him but make her eyes close and her mouth fall slack. She’s gorgeous, the sight of her under him and the feel of her hot and slick around him, tremors running through the muscles when he moves.

He rests his free hand on her thigh, rubbing aimless patterns on her skin as he watches her face and waits for her to tell him what to do next. She likes being stretched and filled until she’s right at the edge, and then barely a touch to her clit will bring her over. He loves doing that, breaking her apart.

But not yet. Not until she tells him to.

She reaches for him, fumbling fingers catching his hair. “Don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping, Val.” He kisses at her hip and her stomach. “I promise.”

“Hands are so fucking big. What… what do they say when you… beast mode.” She laughs breathlessly. “Beast hands.”

He laughs, too, hiding the sound against her and pressing his hand just a fraction deeper. It makes her breath catch and her stomach muscles tense like iron under his mouth.

“Again,” she says, “again, please, yes,” and he obeys, pushing deeper, pulling back, doing it again, and another, and one more--

And then she’s gasping and pushing his head down, holding him in place with her fingertips digging into his skull until he gets his mouth on her clit and licks, licks, licks, three strokes of his tongue and she shudders and pulses hot and impossibly wetter around him.

He stays still, resting against her until her breathing steadies and the pulsing of her muscles eases. “Okay?” he asks, turning his head to rest her cheek against her hip and look up at her. “You gonna die if I move?”

She rolls her eyes, brushing sweaty hair back from her face. “Take more than that to kill me.”

“I’m being considerate, Vally.”

“Fuck off.” She sticks her tongue out at him and he laughs, kissing her hipbone and drawing his hand out slowly and carefully. She still shakes all over and curses under her breath, reaching down to curl her fingers against hot flesh and wet hair.

He wipes his hand and wrist clean on the towels and glances at her from the corner of his eye. “You want me to go in the other room, or…”

“Stupid.” She sighs and stretches her legs out, pointing her toes and then relaxing against the bed. “Jerk off on me, stupid Jamie.”

“Okay.” He shuffles over to kneel between her legs again, getting his hand on himself finally and working his dick to full hardness with a few strokes. He stares at the soft curves of her breasts, skin so pale he can see the blue streaks of veins on the undersides, and the sweat pooled in the crease there, dripping down her ribs to the rucked-up towels and the bedsheets underneath. She’s so beautiful, and such a fucking force of nature on the ice, and she likes to do this with _him_ , he’s the one she wants to come home with her, sometimes. He’s the one she wants to take her apart and fill her up and get her off.

Get her _messy_ , now, as he grunts deep in his chest and jerks and comes across her stomach. A little splashes up on her pretty breasts, and that coaxes the last spasm out of him, leaving him hot and empty and satisfied as he flops down beside her on the bed.

They lay there for a while, him face-down and her face-up and both of them silent, sweat cooling on their skin and the low thrum of the air-conditioning reminding them that if they don’t clean up they will be freezing and covered in a dry flaky mess very soon.

Val nudges him with her foot. “Hungry?”

He shakes his head. “Sleepy.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Uh.” Jamie lifts his head enough to look at her. “You got stuff?”

She nods and nudges him with her foot again. “You cook, I shower, we eat, you shower, we sleep?”

“I can sleep over? I must have been a very good boy.”

She smiles, slow and lazy, and reaches out to ruffle his hair again. “Oh, captain. You are.”


End file.
